


'Til Death Do Us Part

by screamignrodent



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Engagement, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, mention of Baz's deadness but it's fleeting, overall symptons of ptsd but it's never outright said', penny is a voice of reason, simon has emotional issues and so does baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamignrodent/pseuds/screamignrodent
Summary: Simon Snow, the chosen one, the mage’s heir, the dragon boy, is powerless. It’s a feeling he’s grown used to, in his adulthood. Power was something he once had a wealth of, it was something he could rely on. He couldn’t always rely on his magic but he could certainly rely on his power.It’s why, despite living with the power of a lightbulb, he for some reason expects to have the force of a nuclear reactor. And why, for some ungodly reason, he’s decided to take on challenging Tyrannus Basilton Pitch at something.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	'Til Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Wayward Son made me cry when I finished it. This takes place post WS with 0 WS spoilers. I just wanted a Happy Ending to everything that was experienced. I'm planning on, perhaps (don't quote me on this) pulling a fangirl and writing a continuation of ws (basically i may attempt to write anyway the wind blows before it comes out) because I miss the characters (cough shephard cough) so well see how that one goes :)

Simon Snow, the chosen one, the mage’s heir, the dragon boy, is powerless. It’s a feeling he’s grown used to, in his adulthood. Power was something he once had a wealth of, it was something he could rely on. He couldn’t always rely on his magic but he could certainly rely on his power.  
It’s why, despite living with the power of a lightbulb, he for some reason expects to have the force of a nuclear reactor. And why, for some ungodly reason, he’s decided to take on challenging Tyrannus Basilton Pitch at something.   
Because once upon a time, he had the power to challenge Baz, to question him, to rile him up. And now Baz looks at him with pity. The way one might look at an elderly dog in a shelter. You know the dog is on its last leg, and you don’t want the dog, but you want the dog to think (even for its last minutes) that you care.   
Simon is sick of feeling like an elderly shelter dog.   
He’s only twenty, for Crowley’s sake.   
There’s a ring--it’s deep in the flat, well away from where Baz will even dream of looking (it’s in Penny’s room, in her closet, behind her old Watford skirts that she never got rid of). And Simon worked full-time for months for it.   
“Marriage is a sham, Snow,” is what Baz had said, and Simon had felt his heart break into at least twelve pieces. Marriage is a sham, coupled with Snow made him feel like he was back in that Watford dormitory, waiting for Baz to kill him or him to kill Baz. “I mean, after all, what is it more than a piece of paper?”  
In a way, Simon supposes he’s right. The closest Simon ever got to marriage was in foster homes, and he wasn’t in a foster home after he turned eleven. In another life, Simon follows the trends he’s laid out previously: he stammers out an answer, shrugs in agreement, and sulks off to eat something. Or punch something.   
But in this life, Simon squints his eyes and looks at Baz like he’s the idiot in the relationship. “Dedication? Devotion? Isn’t the whole point, like, two people become one?”  
Baz immediately quips back, “The conjoining of assets, alimony payments, and an affair?”  
“Jesus Christ, you act as if you have been cheated on,” Simon huffs out.   
Baz rolls his eyes. In another life, Baz would comment on Simon’s Normal language and Simon would sulk again (because Baz forgets that Simon was Normal, is Normal, and was raised in a Normal society around Normals). But in this life, Baz says, “No? Then why does it feel like it?”  
And that stops Simon in his tracks.   
“Afterall, you’re hardly at your flat, much less at mine,” Baz looks like he’s spinning one of conspiracy theories as he speaks, “What, over the summer you just picked up an extra job? And none of that money’s made a show? Likely. ‘Sides, you hardly ever talk to me, you hardly ever are here, and when you are, you’re not here mentally, and if you are here on an off chance you’re hiding. And now, for some reason, you bring up my thoughts on marriage? Well, here they are, Snow. My father’s been married twice and he’s still a bastard. My step-mum was much more pleasant prior to being wed, and Fiona seems to be doing quite well with a bare left hand.”  
Somewhere, in the flat, there’s a ring. It’s hidden behind skirts from Watford, an old spell book, and inside a shoebox from when Simon was sixteen. Somewhere in Simon’s flat is a two-thousand dollar ring, a ring that Simon had spent hours searching for. It says ‘til death do us (to remind Baz that he’s very much alive, or he wouldn’t be wearing the thing) and it overall so very much Baz.   
Simon looks at Baz, stands up, and heads to that somewhere.  
He wonders if the jeweler will take back a custom ring. Probably not. Maybe he can keep it, keep it in that somewhere and forget about it. Maybe he can throw it out a window in a cathartic bloom.   
If Simon had his magic, he’d go off right about now. He can feel it, or feel how it felt, bubbling under his skin and swelling to a halt. But it never explodes.   
It does, however, bring a tear to his eye. Or multiple.   
His chest is heavy, as if something’s sitting over his heart. And Simon Snow has felt sad before but he’s never been truly this sad. He’s always been, more or less, apathetic to his shithole of a life.   
He takes the ring box out of the closet, slowly, afraid it will shatter or disappear. The box is a velvety red thing, with a silk bow on top. He unties it, recklessly, and extracts the ring with shaking hands.  
‘Til death do us part.  
He cradles it in both hands, his wings falling around him like a cocoon, and cries. For perhaps the first time since the mage’s death, Simon Snow allows himself to be overcome by sobs. He feels his breathing quicken and tries to calm down but he just won’t.  
What do you do, afterall, when your boyfriend (who you’re planning on proposing to) accuses you outright of cheating? What do you do when he makes it clear he’s unhappy?  
There’s two voices from the kitchen, and Simon wishes they’d bought a larger flat. One with thicker walls. One that wouldn’t allow Baz to hear him break down. One that wouldn’t let Simon hear Baz explain what happened to Penelope, who probably asked where Simon was so he could help her with starting dinner before she heads to her evening classes.   
Something drops to the floor, and Penny nearly shouts (or maybe she does shout), “Why is Simon sobbing?”  
And Baz responds in a flat voice, riddled with sarcasm, something that Simon doesn’t quite catch.  
He does, however, hear Penny exclaim, “What do you mean you fought?” And Baz responds, once again in his sarcastic voice, but this time, Simon hears him.   
“We had a fight, in what I mean Bunce, Cowley,” Baz huffs, loudly. Simon thinks they might’ve moved to the lounge. They sound closer. “I called him out, if you’re wondering why we fought, exactly.”  
Penelope is silent for a bit, before speaking (softer, this time, though not by much), “What exactly did you call him out for?”  
Afterall, Penny is the only person who knows about the ring.   
In the somewhere.   
The ring that says ‘til death do us part.   
“He wanted to know my thoughts on marriage.”  
“Crowley’s sake, Basilton.”  
“And I told him what I’d suspected for a long while now.”  
“Crowley’s sake, Basilton.”  
“That he’d been cheating, or perhaps fallen out of love, or something of the sort.”  
“Fuck’s sake, Basil, are you that thick? Aren’t supposed to be smart?” Penny is back to shouting. Simon would crack a smile if he wasn’t so damn sad.   
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Bunce.”  
“I mean, great snakes, you got the highest marks in our class and yet basic common sense is like a riddle with no answer for you, isn’t it?” Baz has the decency to go silent at that. “I’ll spell it out for you, Basil. When your boyfriend picks up an extra job, and the money doesn’t show, what do you think?”  
“That he didn’t pick up a job!”  
“He was saving money!” Baz goes silent again. “And, when said boyfriend approached you asking your opinions on marriage what did you think?”  
Baz, once again, is silent.   
“What did you think, Basil?”  
“That he simply wanted to know if I was serious about this,” Baz says, “To see if he could get out it easier.”  
Penelope takes a breath. “And it never crossed your mind that he might’ve spooled a ridiculous amount of money out on something pertaining to the topic of marriage?”  
Baz is silent, and then he nearly shouts, “Fuck!” And there’s the sound of footfalls coming closer and closer and closer…  
And then they pass the door, and go into Simon’s room, and then Baz shouts, “Fuck, Bunce, where’s Snow?”  
Maybe, if Simon has enough time, he can climb out the window to avoid Baz’s wrath. Now that Baz has put two and two together, and--  
The door is open, and Baz is standing there with his wand out, as if he’s ready to attack. Simon curls his wings around himself, shielding from any blows. It’s out of instinct, and it also allows him to hide the ring that’s held ever so tenderly in his hands.   
“Snow,” Baz sounds pissed. Simon curls the wings tighter. “Simon,” he tries again, his voice softening around the edges and inching closer. “Don’t hide in there, love. I’m sorry.”  
And since Baz never apologizes, Simon unfurls the wings, unable to resist asking, “Who are you and what have you done with Baz?”  
Baz snorts at that, and crouches down beside Simon. “I can apologize when I’ve well cocked up, you know.”  
Simon finally lets his gaze meet Baz’s, “Never done it before,” he points out.  
“I’ve never well cocked up ‘til now,” Baz nearly whispers. The ring is exposed, now, and Simon’s holding it as if he’s offering it to Baz. He was going to. It wasn’t meant to be like this. “That ring, it’s beautiful,” Baz points out, like he’s talking to a child. “I’m sorry, I made assumptions.”  
Simon shakes his head in response, fighting back tears.  
“I lied, Simon,” Baz says, placing a hand over Simon’s, “I hate the idea of marriage, but there’s always been one exception,” and Simon has to fight down the urge to tell Baz he’ll do anything if he’ll wear his ring and stand in front of an officiator. “My exception, ever since I was eleven, was you, Simon Snow.”  
“Me?”  
“You,” Baz says, “You were my exception. I hated when my father remarried. But I knew in a heartbeat I’d marry you if you asked,” he lets out a watery laugh. “And I screwed it up.”  
Simon moves his hands from underneath Baz’s, exposing the ring. “Never too late.”  
“You have to properly ask, Snow,” Baz smirks.  
“I had a speech,” Simon whispers. “And a plan. It was meant to be in the one restaurant you really like, the one French one? I have a reservation for three weeks from today. I was going to do that stupid thing where you hide the ring in a dessert. I was going to get us a private reservation, too, so you could eat properly without worrying, and--”  
“As much as I love you, I’m glad that didn’t happen because that is the cheesiest, most corny thing ever,” Baz says. “And I’d certainly be crying much more than I am, currently. And I hate crying in public.”  
“It is a private reservation,” Simon points out. “But, I suppose it’s cocked up, so,” he shifts his weight onto one knee, bending the other so he can lean forward on his foot. “Tyrannus Basilton Grim Pitch,” Simon says, slowly, speaking each syllable with intent (like it’s a spell) (maybe it is). “Will you marry me?”  
Their lips meet, once, twice, three times, and Baz finally pulls back to whisper, “Yes,” and, “I’m so sorry,” and Simon can’t stand to hear I’m sorry any more, so he crashes his lips into Baz’s.   
“‘Til death do us part,” Simon whispers against Baz’s lips.   
And Baz laughs, because he hasn’t seen the ring up close, yet, but he still responds with a kiss and a whisper of agreement, “‘Til death do us part.”


End file.
